Pick Your Poisons
by Spring Zephyr
Summary: "You look sick," Gerome commented, though immediately he almost wasn't sure why he'd bothered. (Gerome/Inigo, gift fic)


**Hero suggested Ryouma/Leo for this year's birthday or Christmas fic, but I wrote her favorite Awakening pairing instead. |D I still have one story left to write though, and who knows how many ideas I'll go through before I finish one I like? (Note: I'm writing this in September. Nobody else will see this until late December.)**

 **This story takes place after their Supports and the Harvest Scramble DLC, and contains references to both.**

"You look sick," Gerome commented, though immediately he almost wasn't sure why he'd bothered.

His intent had been to leave him alone and pretend not to have seen anything, but those miserable, Risen-like groans had given him pause. Inigo certainly looked greener than usual, but every other time Gerome had seen him sprawled on the dirt like this the cause had been something trivial – most often the number of girls in the nearest town who had enough wits to not fall for his good looks and honeyed words alone. But if he didn't put an end to the bawling now, Gerome told himself, they'd have a camp filled with Risen before Gerome could tell his wyvern it was snack time.

"This is... the first time you've ever initiated a conversation with me..." Inigo groaned theatrically.

He wondered if it was time to start worrying now. And if so, should he be more concerned about the uncomfortable bubbling sensation in his bowels or the way his mouth still tingled with a bitter aftertaste that had only started fading in the last hour. Assuming his tongue hadn't been permanently altered, he was still unlikely to taste anything else for a week!

"Henry said it was safe..."

Hiding beneath Gerome's mask was a look of pure disbelief. "You trusted _Henry_ to say something was safe?"

"T-the other option was Tharja! Noire isn't in this timeline yet, and – "

"Henry said _what_ was safe?"

Inigo clammed up immediately, and even his groaning ceased as he stubbornly turned his head in the other direction. A sniffle may have escaped his lips, but Gerome solemnly swore to himself that he hadn't heard it. Best not to make the situation more tedious than it already was.

Knowing Inigo, it was probably something related to his abhorrent flirtations, and – ah, blast! Now that the thought had entered his mind, it refused to leave!

"W-well, congratulations on making it that far with a girl, finally. I'm, sorry to hear about your, uh, troubles – " he coughed awkwardly. "Now if you don't mind, I must attend to Minerva."

He turned on heel a bit stiffly, giving Inigo just enough time to mentally catch up. "No, no! That's not what this is about!"

"Really, it's okay. I'm not going to tell anyone. In fact, I'm going to forget this conversation ever happened."

"DO YOU REALLY THINK ME SO PATHETIC THAT..." Inigo flushed with an embarrassment so hot, he almost forgot about his upset stomach for a moment. Add to that to the fact that they'd both been yelling, and it might not be the potion that did him in after all. "If you really must know, it was a potion to boost dexterity on the battlefield! Not everyone has a wyvern they can ride on."

That wasn't exactly the truth, and once his mother had learned about his midnight dance practices it seemed like the rest of the army had been quick to follow. It probably wouldn't have hurt him to be truthful, but Inigo couldn't force himself to say it.

"S-so you see... it's nothing like that."

Gerome stared at him.

"There's not a girl waiting in my tent, Gerome. Promise."

"I should hope so. She'd leave anyway, as soon as she saw the condition you're in."

"Oh, was that a joke I heard?" Inigo seemingly returned to his normal self for a moment, until a particularly mournful groan contradicted him. "It hurts to laugh right now."

"What was in that potion?"

"I don't k-know... Sugar, spice, and everything... Something like that."

Inigo's personal combination of absent-minded and impulsive was extremely potent. In the past, Gerome would've decided now would be a great time to simply continue on his way and be thankful it wasn't contagious. But after four outings with Inigo, he'd started to care for the other boy somewhat – at the very least, he felt more subconscious about hurting his feelings. Since then Inigo had begun treating him more like a friend than a wingman, and Germoe had eventually realized Inigo used his head for more than decoration and wooing girls.

Their current relationship wasn't close, exactly, but it wasn't distant either. Gerome's feelings were a bit muddled, actually.

"Certainly, there were no other options," Gerome sighed. He paused for a moment, then added pointedly, "Or better options."

"If it works, it will be worth the sacrifice!"

If it worked, Inigo might not find himself chasing after girls anymore either. Although that was another thing Gerome didn't particularly want to think about.

"For your sake, I just hope it doesn't kill you."

"Ah, right. Think of all the lovely ladies who would be let down."

"I said 'for your sake'. The ladies will be quite all right."

"So cruel!"

"Now will you stop rolling on the ground or must I carry you?"

Despite his best efforts, Gerome couldn't completely avoid thinking about the potion. With another sigh – and a surprised squeak from Inigo – he heaved the other boy over his shoulder. It didn't take long before Inigo started whining indignantly at every step.

"D-don't be so rough, it's my first time like this!"

"I thought you wanted to be manhandled," Gerome grumbled. It was a shallow attempt at hiding his embarrassment – as Inigo was either completely shameless or more innocent than he let on.

He almost dropped Inigo after realizing he wasn't sure which he would've preferred. Innocence was cute, but shameless meant he might not be completely disgusted by some of the things Gerome had thought about him lately. Gerome's imagination was becoming very... overactive these days, especially when the subject matter concerned this airhead fool. Slash friend. Was it too late to change his mind about Inigo being his friend?

"You're too big, it's more scary than exciting!"

"D-do you have any idea what this sounds like?"

"Agh, don't touch there! I'm not prepared yet!"

"I'm only touching your hand, you idiot! Since you won't stop flailing and I don't want to get hit in the face again!"

Inigo was threatening to knock his mask off with his frantic arm movements, which would've been only slightly less embarrassing than their current dialogue.

"Are you going to tell me it will hurt less if I relax next?" Inigo whined.

"Are you doing this on purpose?!"

The other boy whimpered in response, which certainly wasn't helping.

He supposed he should have been glad Inigo's tent was nearby and only a few curious faces had gawked at them along the way, but the extra effort _that_ would've taken wasn't worth it. Inigo had somehow wriggled his way into his arms along the way, so Gerome's arms were hooked under his shoulders and knee's, like a newly wed's. Inigo whimpered again as Gerome dropped him onto his bedroll. Gently, of course, since Inigo's definition of manhandling was so different from his.

Inigo panted like he'd been the one carrying his embarrassing, melodramatic friend. Most of the army's tents lacked artificial light sources as a means to reduce fire hazards, so it was equally possible the potions ill side effects had been made worse from the physical exertion. He'd feel a pang of guilt if that were the case.

"Anything else I can do to help?" Gerome asked, feeling guilty already.

"Kiss it better?"

"You've got to be kidding."

"No, I'm not!" Inigo protested.

Before he could add any helpful context information – like how that was what his mother had always done in the future, for even the most minor afflictions, for everything save the Risen that had left permanent scars when they'd killed her – Gerome swooped forward and planted a firm kiss on his mouth.

When they broke apart, Inigo's response was stunned silence, enduring long enough for Gerome to regain his sense. His heart twinged like a bowstring as the full realization of what he'd done set in, and that he had no reasonable explanation as to why he'd done it. Inigo was impulsive. Gerome was...

Quite terrified in this situation, actually.

"Forget that happened!" he yelped in what was certainly not his finest moment. He'd never retreated so quickly from anything in his life.

"...I'd rather not," Inigo mumbled, watching the tent flap fluttering behind him.

With luck, maybe he could still catch up and convince Gerome to play the role of nurse for a while.

A sudden pain in his abdomen caused him to flinch and reconsider. It would be hard to convince Gerome he hadn't just ruined their friendship if Inigo threw up on him, but there would be nothing stopping him from finding a chance to prove he wasn't a terrible kisser later.

 **The "sugar, spice, and everything nice" is supposed to be a jab at the Dancer class for being exclusive to females (Herons and Bards are similar, but technically not Dancers). Henry seems like the type of person who would take that logical leap.**

 **Anyway, I wanted to give Hero a present different than what she'd normally expect. The pacing is so weird, I think I succeeded. :D**


End file.
